


Let's Talk?

by NihilismBot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Shut up Swerve, Spoilers for issue 21, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilismBot/pseuds/NihilismBot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saddened by the events of issue 21, First Aid needs some words of comfort and advice. He goes to Whirl anyway. Smut is in chapter 2, so skip that if you just want friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

     The fighting was over- and no one died! Well, Tyrest had died, but they wanted that. And Dai Atlas was dead too. And some others. But, they did pretty good overall! Though, fighting was the easy part, the difficult part was sitting in the infirmary being useless.

     Which was where Whirl was. Sitting. In the infirmary. Being useless.

     His chassis had seen worse in the past, but that didn't excuse him from needing repair now. Despite his insistence that he just needed to be able to move, and maybe transform, to be fully functional. Shooting too. Shooting first and foremost. Actually, so long as he could shoot, he should probably be considered fully functional and dismissed from the infirmary.

     Ratchet disagreed.

     So, Whirl sat- well reclined, sitting was a bit difficult- on one of the exam tables waiting for a free medic. This would have been a little bit better if Ambulon hadn't been killed. He had heard about it through Swerve, pretty gruesome thing to witness. But, he had to admit, “who said anything about the waist?” was pretty funny. He probably should keep that to himself though.

     First Aid had finished patching up Skids and moved over to Whirl. He primarily looked at his data slate glancing up from it to look his patient and mutter an observation.

     “Numerous dents to armor plating. Cracked cockpit window. Superficial damage.” First Aid spoke in a monotone.

     “Nice to see you too, doc. Was your bedside manner always this stiff?” Whirl said, his eye shining brightly. No, dimly, but it was brighter than it was a nanoklik ago.

     Writing notes on his data slate, First Aid said, “I have a large number of patients to get through, I don't have time to make pleasantries with all of them.”

     “I'm not asking you to be pleasant with all of them, just me. We don't talk much, I think we could really benefit from a nice chat. What better time to start bonding than the present, right? I bet you'd love to hear about how my fight went. I'll tell you about all the Wrecker training I used. You love that stuff, don't you?”

     “Whirl,” First Aid interrupted, “I have other patients to assess, I don't have time to chat.” First Aid's grip on the data pad had tightened.

     Whirl scoffed, “Clearly. You haven't even asked me how I'm feeling.”

     Flatly, First Aid asked, “How are you feeling?”

     “Just terrible, doc! My left claw won't close, my knees can't bend, my whole body aches, I haven't been able to fire the guns in my left arm, my vision's all blurry and, to top it all off, I had to sit in the med bay forever and I can't even get a pleasant conversation!”

     “It's all superficial damage. You're currently a low priority patient. Once we finish assessing everyone and tend to those more damaged, we'll be able to fix you up.” First Aid started to walk away.

     “Hey! You could at least help with my last problem! I heard you killed Pharma. Shot him right in the head, yeah? I gotta admit, I like your style. Never thought you had it in you. It's always the quiet ones, right? Well, not always. I mean, there are guys like me who never shut up and would still blow your head off. Not your head specifically, especially when you'd just shoot me back. But you know wha-”

     “Whirl!” First Aid snapped. “I'm busy! We can talk later if it's so important to you!”

     First Aid's free hand was clenched in a tight fist. So tight, it was shaking. Whirl looked at the medic's trembling fist then back at his face. “You know where to find me.”

     Quickly venting out hot air, First Aid walked towards his next patient.

     Low priority. He was one of the heavy hitters, that should have bumped him up to medium priority. But medium priority seemed to be reserved for the bots with missing limbs, a group he was arguably part of. The high priority patients, those in danger of dying, had already been seen. It lessened the wait time, but not by nearly enough.

     Why couldn't he just take a number and hobble back to his habitation suite until they were ready for him. Actually, why couldn't he go to his suite and have one of the medic's come to him? Sure they wouldn't have their full medical inventory, but he was low priority. What could they need besides a blowtorch and a hammer? But then Whirl might have to worry about the condition of his suite. No bot wanted to cohabitate with him, which gave him a lot of freedom in the usage of space and how much contraband could be viewable at any time. If he was at risk of Ratchet paying him a visit, Whirl would probably have to hide the guns that Brainstorm probably shouldn't have given him in the first place. So, it was for the best that he had to sit in the infirmary and wait. Forever.

     By the time First Aid was able to actually help, Whirl had drifted into stasis. He was awoken by a gentle shake which made him reflexively grab the offending hand. Try and grab, his claw wouldn't close.

     “Sorry, doc, but you really shouldn't go and shaking ex-Wreckers.” Whirl slid his claw off of First Aid's wrist.

     “I barely touched you!” responded the medic. “It's alright, though. I shouldn't have touched you without your permission.”

     Whirl's optic shone brightly. “You don't need my permission to touch me. Though, warning might be good for the both of us.”

     First Aid didn't respond and simply started working. He moved slower than he had on previous repair jobs. He must have been exhausted from all the patients. Much as Whirl wanted to strike up a conversation, he mostly wanted to not see the off-white walls of the med bay anymore. So, he stayed quiet and only moved as instructed.

     “Follow my finger.” First Aid said as he raised a finger moved it from left to right. He observed the subtle motions in Whirl's single optic. “Everything seems to be in order. How do you feel?”

     Flexing his legs, Whirl responded, “Great, just great. Nice work, doc. I'd dare say you did an even better job than Ratchet himself!”

     Startled, First Aid immediately looked over his shoulder to see if his superior heard the remark. Either he didn't, or he didn't care. First Aid turned back to Whirl with bright optics, “Thank you. You're free to go now, don't hesitate to contact me or any of the other staff, if there's a problem.”

     Whirl had already stood up at “you're free.” He turned to the shorter bot- Primus it felt good to look down at bots again- and said, “Same to you.” Whirl, happily, left the medical bay to return to his own room.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

     “You need to take a break,” Ratchet chastised his trainee.

     The Chief Medical Office in training didn't look up from the screw he was tightening.

     “Um, First Aid, I believe Ratchet is talking to you,” Rung tried to get his doctor's attention.

     Having finished tightening the screw, First Aid looked up, “How is that? Try moving your arm. Everything feeling okay?”

     Rung smiled politely and bent his elbow for the doctor. “Yes, it feels fine. But, I think Ratchet was talking to you.”

     “What?” First Aid looked to the elder mech.

     “I said you need to take a break. That's an order, not a suggestion,” Ratchet commanded.

     Shaking his head lightly, First Aid responded “I'm fine, really.”

     “You're tired, you're working too slow, you're going to get sloppy. Plus, you're stressed. Rung, tell him he's stressed. Maybe a second opinion will help him understand.”

     Rung looked away from First Aid, “You do seem stressed. I could set up an appointment if you'd like.”

     “No. You already have to see half the ship, I couldn't burden you. Again, I'm fine. I have nothing to talk about.” First Aid cleaned his equipment as he spoke.

     Quickly venting air, Ratchet said firmly, “It's an order. You're taking a break. Get some rest, I don't need you and your shaking hands making any injuries worse.”

     First Aid wanted to say something, but his thought processes were moving too slowly. He stood unmoving and wiping the same scalpel for far longer than he meant to. Finally, he thought of a response. “I want to help everyone.”

     Ratchet got ready to scold the young bot when Rung chimed in. “I believe you'll help everyone more once you've rested.”

     Defeated, First Aid placed the scalpel back on the tray. He gave a short nod and left without another word.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

     Whirl's room. That made perfect sense, having a nice chat with a sociopath to calm your nerves. Of course Whirl was the best choice for confidant. Who would better understand First Aid's current inability to handle killing a complete psychopath than a guy who was a complete psychopath. It was just simple logic.

     Well, he did invite the medic over. Sort of. “Come see me if you need to,” Whirl said something like that. Or maybe it was wishful thinking. With a huff, First Aid raised his servo to press the buzzer, dropped it, turned to leave, then turned back to the door again. He put forth a lot of effort just to stay in the same spot.

     He could set up an appointment with Rung, that was what he was there for. And on a ship of neurotics, this meant Rung was a busy fellow. No, he couldn't burden Rung further. He couldn't bring himself to talk to Ratchet either. First Aid was so busy in the medical bay that he didn't have time to form close bonds with any of his shipmates. He wanted to, now more than ever, but he didn't. Swerve might be willing to lend an audio receptor... Then tell everyone about it.

     It wasn't that he was ashamed, he just didn't want anyone to worry. Maybe that was what was bringing him to Whirl. He wouldn't worry about First Aid. In fact, he probably wouldn't even care at all, and that was appealing at the moment.

     Straightening his back, First Aid rang the buzzer. He waited for a response for a click before hearing some shuffling and footsteps before the crackle of the suite intercom.

     “Hey, doc! What brings you here? Doing personal visits now?” Whirl's voice chimed.

     Hitting the button to respond, First Aid replied, “No, I just wanted to... talk?” That managed to sound worse out loud than it did in his processor.

     “Talk?” Whirl sounded confused, not that First Aid was surprised.

     “Yes. Talk. If you're not too busy... If you'd like to...” He could just turn around and pretend it was a prank by Swerve or some one.

     “Talk...” Whirl sounded as though he were unfamiliar with the word. “Yeah. Yeah, we can talk. Just give me a click and I'll open the door for you.”

     “Thank you.” That was unexpected. Now that he was actually being invited in, First Aid couldn't think of what he actually wanted to talk about. He remembered what was bothering him and what he just needed to get off his chest, but he couldn't put the right words to it. Maybe he still had time to run away and say it was all Swerve's fault. Somehow.

     Inside the room, First Aid heard the sounds of heavy foot steps and objects of varying weight being tossed around. There were a few curses and- was that a gun shot?

     “Slag! Ignore that!” Whirl called from inside his suite.

     Yeah, that was a gun shot. A few more things got tossed around in some no doubt haphazard manor. Finally, footsteps approached the entrance. The door opened with a hiss and Whirl was standing there, leaning on the frame.

     “So. Talk,” Whirl said with a low voice.

     “Um. Yes. Talk.” This was seeming like a worse idea by the klik.

     “Well, come on in,” Whirl said cocking his head towards his room. He walked into his suite and there was a slight swagger to his step. He was probably just walking oddly while he tried to get used to the tune-ups that were recently made. Whirl sat on his recharge slab and patted a space next to him.

     First Aid shook his head at the offer. He moved a chair over to face the larger mech.

     “Aw, come on,” Whirl whined, “I don't bite. Couldn't even if you wanted me to.”

     “No, this is fine.” First Aid looked down. Well, this conversation wasn't going to have itself. Might as well jump into it with no warning. “Whirl, you've killed bots before...”

     Whirl's optic brightened. “Millions! You want me to tell you all about it? I'll just stick to the interesting ones, unless you want me to talk until your next shift.”

     “No, that's not it.” First Aid looked at his hands. “Do you remember your first kill?”

     The older mech leaned back a bit and dimmed his optic. “The first one... I remember him. I was still a watch-maker then...” Without warning, Whirl shifted forward again, “That one's pretty boring, you sure you want to hear about it?”

     “That's alright. I just wanted to know how...” First Aid's voice got quiet, “How did it feel?”

     There was a short pause then, “Great! It felt great to get rid of that aft! It was a glorious moment were I was the master of the universe and could tailor it to my will!”

     “Really?” Even coming from a bot like Whirl, First Aid had trouble believing that the first kill could be anything other than sickening.

     “Yeah! Didn't you feel a brief rush when you shot Pharma? A feeling of totally freedom, knowing that the slagger couldn't hurt you any more?”

     “No.” A little. “I... It had to be done. He couldn't be allowed to harm anyone else. But...” Why did it have to be him to do it?

     “Exactly. You couldn't let him continue living, so you took control. You changed the world! You should feel great!” Whirl moved his claws for emphasis as he talked.

     Looking down, First Aid whispered, “But why me?” He raised his voice back to its normal tone. “I took an oath to save bots, not kill them. Why did I have to take a life?”

     “You just said why. You saved bots, you just did it a different way from normal. I don't see the problem.”

     “I killed a man!” First Aid snapped.

     Whirl blinked his optic. “He would have killed more.”

     First Aid looked down at his hands. It had felt good. Not great, there was no high feeling. But it had felt like he did something good. Pharma needed to die. But, immediately after, he just felt sick. Thinking about that brief moment of peace when Pharma's lifeless shell had fallen to the ground, that just made it worse. Thinking about those that Pharma killed, even Ambulon, made it worse. His oath was broken, his best friend was dead, he felt like scrap.

     Whirl looked around the room waiting for the medic to respond. When he didn't, Whirl said, “You did something brave. I'm impressed. A genuine Wrecker- ex-Wrecker- is telling you he's impressed. Why are you still down?”

     First Aid looked at Whirl. The helicopter was being a surprisingly good listener, the sessions with Rung must have really been paying off. “Thank you.” He went silent again.

     Whirl clicked his claws impatiently. “No matter what happens, you still killed Pharma- which is great! But, you're still mopey. You can mope forever if you want, but you still killed Pharma. Everyone else is happy about this. Everyone else is just thrilled to hear that the slag-fragger is dead. You're the only one who isn't! You're committed to being mopey. Just be happy, there's nothing wrong with being happy.”

     The medic was caught off-guard by the remark. He did need to cheer up. All the depression in the universe wasn't going to bring back Ambulon or any of the patients at Delphi. And he did help save lives by taking just the one. He didn't want to make a regular practice of it, but this once, killing was the best way to save.

     “You're right,” said First Aid. He smiled behind his face plate.

     “Of course I'm right!” Whirl beamed. “Now,” Whirl's voice got low, “You wanna frag?”

     Again, the medic was caught off-guard. “E-excuse me?”

     There was a short pause. “Isn't that why you came here?”

     First Aid was too stunned to say anything. The mental whiplash he just experienced was making his head hurt. “Why I came... No... No! I said I came here to talk!”

     “You really just meant talk? I was so sure that was code.” Whirl seemed to be talking to himself more so than First Aid.

     First Aid stood up. “I-I should go.” He walked to the door. His mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts and feelings. Maybe that was an offer he would have accepted under different circumstances, but he was a bit too frazzled to make a good decision.

     Whirl stood up to follow him to the door, “Uh. Sorry,” he mumbled.

     “It's fine. I'll talk to- I'll see you later.” First Aid managed to blurt out as he left Whirl's room.

     The door closed behind First Aid and shortly after there was a thunk. Ignoring it, he walked back to the infirmary. He certainly felt more awake and alert now.

     From inside the suite, Whirl rested his head on the door. “Slag.”


	2. Chapter 2

     It had been one mega-cycle since First Aid had talked with Whirl. Talked. That word didn't sit right with the medic any more. Of course Whirl would ruin a perfectly innocent word.

     “To be fair to the guy,” said the bartender with a smile, “I would have thought the same thing.”

     First Aid groaned as he looked up from his drink at Swerve. The company was not welcome. The shorter bot was wiping down the table in an effort to make it seem that working was his goal rather than chatting. “He told you about that?”

     “Nah, I heard him ask Rung what it meant when a bot came to your room to 'talk.'” Swerve pantomimed making air quotes with claws. “And before you ask, this was at my bar, I didn't eavesdrop on one of their sessions. I'm not that nosy. Or at least, I'm not stealthy enough to do that and not get a face full of blaster courtesy of everyone's favorite cyclops.”

     “He told Rung about me?” First Aid hoped his voice didn't convey the panic he felt.

     “No, he just asked about talking. Rung said it probably meant they wanted a chat and his eyebrows nearly shot off his head when Whirl said 'I was positive it meant fragging!'” Swerve laughed.

     “So how did you figure out that it was me?” asked First Aid.

     “Now that,” Swerve pointed for emphasis, “required some detective work.” He curled his hand back into a fist. “Ok. It didn't really. I just heard Powerglide mention seeing you leave Whirl's room. There aren't too many bots leaving from there. I put two and two together.”

     First Aid released a puff of air. “Deduce anything else?”

     “Before Whirl burst in, Rung was telling Skids that Ratchet was worried about you. Actually, if not for Whirl's little interjection, I would have thought you had gone to Whirl for a... helicopter ride.” Swerve beamed with pride at the joke. It wasn't even clever.

     Why was everyone talking about everyone else? Didn't they have more important things to do?

     Evidently not.

     Swerve gave an exaggerated frown. “Look pal, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours but, well, maybe some good old fashioned 'facing is what you need to turn your sad into glad! Sure, Whirl isn't who I'd pick for you, but he's clearly interested and that's always a good start!”

     “Thank you, Swerve.” First Aid stood up to leave.

     “Anytime, pal!” Swerve beamed.

     First Aid left the small bar. Hopefully, no one heard the bartender's too-loud voice. It wasn't that he was ashamed of having gone to speak with Whirl, just that he didn't need any rumors buzzing around.

     The medic took a walk through the corridors of the Lost Light. He hadn't given Whirl's offer any thought since it was made. He didn't even think Whirl would still remember or care, but it would seem First Aid did. It was only fair that he give the offer some serious, not grief-clouded thought.

     Whirl wasn't the most stable-minded of bots. He took more joy in killing than was healthy for an Autobot. He also didn't know when to stop talking; there was not a single mech on the ship that did not want to deck Whirl in the vocalizer at least once. Those were the two obvious cons to this decision.

     Whirl was also more heroic than he wanted others to believe. He had saved Rewind the one time and he figured out how to save Tailgate's life. Even with his murderous streak, his gun was always aimed in the right direction. And he had been a Wrecker. That was a huge bonus. Though the past-tense nature of the statement should have lessened its effect on First Aid's spark.

     Shaking his head, First Aid decided he was putting too much thought into the whole ordeal. It was just a quick frag. He wasn't planning on bonding with him. He'd just go to his room, probably get pressed against a wall, and leave. Simple as that.

     With his mind made up, First Aid headed towards Whirl's suite.

~*~*~*~*~*~

     Whirl was lounging on his berth shooting darts at a picture of Cyclonus' face. Sure they put the past behind them and called a truce, but Whirl didn't feel like changing the picture. He looked better with a face full of darts anyway.

     There was a buzz indicating that some one was at the door. Who was it now? Ultra Magnus informing him of what rules he had broken this week? Rung delivering the petition for him to go to the therapist twice in a mega-cycle? Powerglide telling him to not throw things at their shared wall?

     He stood up and peeked through the porthole. Ah, First Aid. A bit surprising considering how the last visit went. He probably wanted to do more of that talking thing. Of course Whirl was good at that, he spent so much time listening to Rung's jargon he could spew it back flawlessly.

     Whirl hit the button for the intercom. “Hey, doc! What brings you here?”

     “I wanted to um... Talk?”

     Called it. Whirl was now the second-best psychologist on the ship! Second to Rung not because of talent, but a lack of expressive eyebrows.

     “Sure, sure.” Whirl did a quick glance at his room to make sure any contraband was hidden. Can't be too sure that First Aid isn't going to tell some one. “Come on in!”

     Whirl opened the door and First Aid entered and sat on the berth. He must have been more comfortable now that their relationship was clearly established. Whirl took a seat next to him.

     “So, what's on your mind?” Whirl asked cheerfully.

     First Aid looked around the room. “I was thinking about what you said last time and um...”

     “Not another word! I see where this is headed,” Whirl said confidently.

     “You...do?” First Aid seemed unsure.

     Whirl placed a claw on First Aid's shoulder and gestured with the other. “There's no need to feel bad about blasting someone's head off. Why, killing is one of the few simple pleasures in life. It allows even the meekest bot to become as mighty as a phase-sixer! It gives you control of your domain, mastery of your territory, command of you world, domina-”

     “No!” First Aid had been sitting quietly, and dumbfounded, for the first part of Whirl's speech. “That's not what this is about!”

     Whirl lowered the claw he had been waving around. “You said you wanted to talk and we're talking. Right?” Primus, First Aid was hard to understand.

     The medic tried to gesture with his hands, but seemed unsure as to what point he was trying to make. Defeated by his own flailing, he lowered his arms and shrugged his shoulders. “I meant your type of talking.”

     His type of talking? Oh. Oh! Whirl's optic brightened.

     First Aid continued, “I was thinking about your offer and I- um... I accept?”

     Now this was much more Whirl's speed. A cute little medic saying, “Oh please, mister Wrecker, frag me until my legs give out and I collapse on the ground a quivering, moaning mess!” First Aid said something like that, he was sure of it.

     Whirl leaned against the wall and spread his legs slightly. He moved the claw on First Aid's shoulder, lightly stroking down his back. Well, doing the best he could under the circumstances. “You accept, eh? I can't say I'm surprised. I don't know anyone who would refuse a nice pounding from a Wrecker.” First Aid's vents hitched at that. “But, we've had some miscommunications in the past. Why don't you show me what you mean. You got a mouth under that faceplate?”

     Slowly, First Aid turned his head away, there was a soft hiss. When he turned back, his faceplate had slid away exposing his mouth. His lips twitched a bit as he tried to settle on a facial expression. A claw clumsily traced the line of his lips. First Aid opened his mouth a little bit, unsure as to what Whirl wanted.

     “Thought you couldn't get hotter, you're just full of surprises.” Whirl moved his claw away. “I'm not so good with gentle touches in case you couldn't tell.” Whirl cocked his head towards the space in front of his berth. “Now why not show me what you really want?”

     First Aid looked at the space and bit his bottom lip. “What do you want me to do exactly?”

     Whirl stroked his own chest. “I told you, I'm not good with gentle touches. I need you to get yourself ready for me. Unless you want me to just go in and get it done, so to speak. But honestly, I think I'd like a bit of a performance first.”

     The medic hesitantly stood up and walked in front of Whirl. “I've never done this before.” He didn't want to look Whirl in the optic, choosing instead to look at his autobot insignia. The paint had been warn away towards the top and he distantly wondered how Ultra Magnus hadn't noticed.

     “You never fragged anyone? Well, I'm flattered to be your first but-”

     “No! I've never performed for anyone!”

     “Oh. That's not a problem. Just touch your hot little body like you would if you were by yourself. You've done that before, right?”

     “Yeah.” First Aid gave a slow cycle of air then put his hands on his thighs and traced his frame upwards. He glanced behind him to see that there was a clear path to the wall. Tripping on something would just make this all the worse. He leaned his back on the cool surface and tilted his head up to expose his throat. One servo traced over some of the sensitive cables and he let out a soft gasp. The other hand stroked his inner thigh.

     Whirl gave an approving nod. “That's it. Go as slow or as fast as you want.”

     The red bot moved his hand from his thigh to his groin plating, trying to speed things up. He gave himself a gentle rub before moving the plating away to expose his interface panel. Biting one of his digits, he let his spike pressurize to full size.

     “Ooh, nice. Imagine that filling my valve. Would you like to see me bent over, bracing the wall? Is that what you're into?”

     First Aid wasn't sure if he should answer, he couldn't think of anything clever enough. He gave a gentle tug on his spike and let out a gasp that was not as quiet as he hoped. His other hand was gently holding on to his throat. His hand continued to administer slow strokes to his spike.

     “You could sit on my lap if you'd prefer. I could hold your hips with one claw and you pretty neck with the other. Don't worry, I'd be gentle.”

     First Aid's fans picked up at the suggestion which earned a chuckle from Whirl.

     “Well, if you insist. Why don't you climb up here?” Whirl purred.

     First Aid obliged, grateful to not have to perform anymore. It was a bit difficult to straddle Whirl with their size differences and Whirl's general shape. Fortunately, Whirl was leaning back which meant that his cockpit was mostly out of the way. First Aid gently traced Whirl's autobot insignia before he braced himself on Whirl's upper arms.

     “You ready?” Whirl asked. First Aid gave a small nod and opened his valve. A small drop of lubricant fell on Whirl's pressurized spike. Whirl lifted the smaller bot and slowly lowered him on his spike, First Aid let out a loud gasp. “You're louder than I thought you'd be,” Whirl teased.

     “Just... Get on with it.” First Aid muttered. It had been a long time since he had last interfaced, and he didn't need all the dialog.

     Wordlessly, Whirl lifted First Aid almost the whole way off his spike then lower him slowly again. This time, First Aid was biting his lower lip. Now it was a game; Whirl would make him scream.

     Whirl set a slow pace at first. Almost taking First Aid completely off his spike before lowering him again. When Whirl felt that First Aid was ready, he tightened his grip on his hips and increased his speed.

     “Your valve is gripping me so nicely,” Whirl purred, “You really want this, don't you?”

     Not surprisingly, First Aid was silent except for his fans.

     “Is this what you wanted? You're own wrecker to ride? I bet you can feel my charge building with those sensitive medic hands. 

     Removing a claw from First Aid's hip, Whirl gripped his throat. Not tightly, just enough to demonstrate dominance. He increased his speed.

     “Come on, tell me how much you like this. Tell me how you love feeling my spike deep in you. Tell me how you love clinging on to me like your life depends on it. You're close, aren't you? I can feel it, your grip's tightening.”

     Against his better judgment, First Aid released his lip and screamed Whirl's name as he hit his overload. That was all the larger mech needed to hear. He grunted his own overload right after.

     Whirl released his grip on First Aid. The medic lifted himself off of the helicopter and fell on to the berth. Following his lead, Whirl slumped back further.

     “That was nice. We really need to talk more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing smut of any kind, let alone robot smut. I hope you enjoyed my first venture into robot porn! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't posted a fanfic in forever! Please let me know what you think! Criticism is welcome! Thank you for reading!


End file.
